


What We Leave Behind

by whiplashcrash



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: I'm actually happy with this, Jedi are off to Malachor and shenanigans happen, KAW 2020, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e17 The Honorable Ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplashcrash/pseuds/whiplashcrash
Summary: Leaving things behind is a theme in Zeb's life. His home, his past, his friends. But he can't bring himself to leave this behind, not entirely.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus & Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28
Collections: Kalluzeb appreciation week 2020.





	What We Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mudkipwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/gifts).



> For Kalluzeb Appreciation Week 2020! Day One: (Tender)/Prisoner of the Empire  
> The incredible @chocolatemudkip saved this poor fic from my writer's burnout as an incredible beta. *Thunderous applause*  
> Enjoy! :)

Onboard the prisoner transport _Safeguard_ , Garazeb Orrelios struggled to breathe. He was used to the metallic, processed smell and taste of the air in space; a life on the _Ghost_ had promised as much. What he was _not_ used to was the ridiculous amount of chains on his wrists and ankles, nor the equally preposterous number of guards outside his door. Atollon had security of course, but this was different in a way he was not quite comfortable with. 

Then again, comfortable wasn’t exactly the idea. 

Zeb shifted, trying and failing to find at least some position where he wasn’t pinched by more than one of his bonds.

What was supposed to be a routine mission turned into a kriffing mess: one with thermal detonators and blast doors that separated him from the others.Sabine had made a mistake, and while he didn’t blame her, the poor timing had thrown Zeb in the opposite direction of the other crew members. Zeb ended up on the opposite side of closing blast doors, and among a company of stormtroopers. The blast had disoriented Zeb, not to mention disarmed him, because his kriffing bo-rifle was gone. Hera had done her best. Zeb had watched as she fought her way through the stormtroopers with Sabine and Rex on either side, but it still wasn’t enough. When the blast doors closed, so did the window for his rescue. 

Getting captured was _so_ stupid. After having slipped out of a life in chains because of Hera and Kanan some years before, the feeling of being caged wasn’t one he was keen on revisiting. But it didn’t seem as though he had any other choice. He was there in that cell, and he was captured.

Zeb looked up from the bench he was sitting on, his eyes big and ears folded over. It had been a really rough day, and from the sound of things, it was only going to get worse. Mentions of ISB and promises of interrogation made his heart sink. It seemed as though he hadn’t gotten through to Agent Kallus on that moon after all.

“Hey!” one of the stormtroopers shouted, moving away from the door. Ears twitching at the sound of footsteps, Zeb looked up.

“You’re not authorized to be here! Go back to your cell!” another stormtrooper said. 

And then--two shots went off, and both stormtroopers let out strangled cries. They hit the ground, and although Zeb could not see it, he could hear the bodies thump. 

On the other side of the door, Zeb could not tell exactly who’d managed to slip out of their cell. The white metal door disappeared into the wall, and his eyes widened at the sight of his fellow prisoner standing with his arms crossed and a scowl over two fallen stormtroopers.

Zeb watched the prisoner stalk into his cell with a look in his eyes Zeb didn’t quite like. His ears drew back and he folded in on himself as much as he could. The prisoner was a togruta. He looked young and angry, but Zeb could not fathom why he was directing all that frustration at him.

“Are you Garazeb Orrelios? The Lasat?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m asking,” the scarred warrior snarled.

Looking at his new acquaintance, Zeb realized why he’d been locked up by the Empire, too. Aside from a flurry of scars across his muscular body, on his arm was a cloth band, bearing the symbol of the Rebellion. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, Zeb nodded. 

“Yeah. I’m Zeb Orrelios. Who’re you?”

“Taomen,” the togruta replied. Immediate disinterest in their conversation, or maybe in Zeb, made itself known through Taomen’s irritated expression.

Zeb grunted. “I don’t know you. Don’t think we’ve met before. You part of Phoenix squadron?”

Shaking his head , Taomen put the blaster in his hands under his arm to dig through his pockets. After not finding what he was looking for with a few pats of the tattered clothes that were a staple of the Rebellion, he began pulling them each inside out. Zeb could see the patches. With a meager shrug he reached into one of the last ones on his calf and his face grew pensive.

“No, but I know you.” Taomen said. “Your friend sends their regards. They also regret to inform you they can't be here in person to rescue you.”

Perking up, Zeb fought back a smile, though his ears flicked upwards involuntarily. A rescue. Defying all odds and any expectations he’d had after being captured by the Empire, Zeb was being rescued. 

“That’s fine.” Zeb shrugged. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I’m supposed to release you.” The togruta brandished a key. With an easy click, the chains fell off Zeb’s wrists and soon the rest of his body was freed too, as his acquaintance unlocked all but the two chains on his ankles. 

“And then?” Zeb rubbed his stinging, poor chafed wrists.

Taomen shrugged. “Figure it out.” 

He placed the key and a commlink in Zeb’s hand, gave a mocking salute, and began to back out of the cell. 

“Hey, wait. Where are you going?” Zeb asked, fumbling with the lock and key on his own.

“Good luck, rebel.”

“Hey!” Zeb shouted, but the togruta was already gone. He obviously hadn’t intended to stick around, but for some unfathomable reason, he’d freed Zeb. The last of the locks clicked, and Zeb stumbled forwards. Although he had been alright standing, maneuvering with sore joints was more difficult than anticipated.

With the key and comm cylinder tucked into his pocket, Zeb stepped out of the door into the cold, regulation-Imperial hallway. Peering around the bulkheads on either side for a sign of someone else, friend or foe, Zeb’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t see anyone, and although his being alone meant there were no stormtroopers ready to blast him for the moment, Zeb still wished the other rebel hadn’t left him behind. 

However, the presence of another prisoner on the ship suggested more stormtroopers beyond just the two guarding his cell, and leaving their friends’ bodies out for discovery was not recommended by any rebel handbook that he’d ever read. 

_Escape first, make friends later_ , Zeb reminded himself. He pulled both stormtroopers into his cell and tossed them by their ankles against the wall. 

Their standard-issue blasters were a bit small for his taste, but the puny, human-sized weapons would have to do for the moment. Zeb made his way for the door when someone barked an order at him: one he didn’t think twice about for some odd reason.

 _“Get back!”_ came a garbled voice from… his _pocket_?

He jumped backwards and against the wall as soon as he heard it, just as soon as the comm-link of a stormtrooper clicked on. “The escaped prisoner went this way. If you see him, shoot to kill. We have no orders to bring him in alive, and he’s killed both of his guards.”

 _“Do not move,”_ the same voice instructed him. Luckily for whoever was on the other end, Zeb didn’t care to. 

Garble of the comm-link chatter carried itself down the hall, and their plastoid footsteps echoed past where he’d hidden himself up against the wall. At least a couple pieces of their armor were loose, because he could hear them clacking. Sloppy, poor excuse for soldiers. 

Ears twitching, Zeb knew his eyes were likely bulging, and he held his breath. Though the basic was harsh and snotty, it sent a healthy dose of near-panic into his veins. 

“Do you think he’s really as dangerous as they say?” one of the nasal voices of a stormtrooper said.” I thought that togruta were peace-loving pushovers.” 

Zeb resisted the urge to snort. Oh, if only that Imperial was unlucky enough to meet Ahsoka.

The trooper’s companion scoffed. “Tell that to the three stormtroopers he killed after he got both of his guards.” 

Loose armor clattered, the steady click of plastoid pieces tapping one another growing fainter at the same time their voices faded away.

“Right. This way. We can’t let him escape.” 

Both stormtroopers’ footsteps faded down the hallway. Zeb sighed, and shook his head slowly. 

_“Well, well. You do take orders after all,”_ the snarky voice mocked. 

“Excuse me?” Zeb growled. “Who’re you to boss me around anyhow?”

They scoffed. _“Does it matter?”_

“I’d say it does.”

 _“And I say there are more important things to worry about,”_ the distorted voice said firmly. “ _For instance: getting you out of that brig, and not drawing any attention to yourself.”_

Zeb rolled his eyes, knowing he didn’t need to be seen for his annoyance to make its way through the link. 

“Yeah, and why are you so interested in helping me?”

 _“Consider it to be in both of our best interests for you to escape and reunite with your friends. The_ Ghost _will be arriving soon, and if you are not there when it does, my motivations will be the least of your worries.”_

Although it sounded as if there was a thinly veiled threat hidden in those words, Zeb couldn’t help but dismiss it. Trust, however fragile, wasn’t something he could afford to kriff up.

“Alrighty, Snarky, I’ll play along for now.”

_“Good. Now exit to your right, and follow the passageway to the left until I advise you to do otherwise.”_

“Right, then left,” Zeb repeated. He exited the cell to the right, and checked the hallway before he hurried towards the left. He only made it a few paces before something occurred to him. “What’s the deal with your togruta friend?”

_“Not my friend.”_

Rich with static, the link remained otherwise silent until Snarky spoke up again, as if taking a moment to consider their reply. 

_“He was supposed to stick to the plan and stay by your side, but he didn’t seem too keen on adhering to my directive.”_

“I’m not too happy about it either,” Zeb reminded them.

 _“Yes, well, you have the sense to listen at the very least. I adapted the plan accordingly.”_

Snarky sounded resigned to the fact their relationship would not exactly be the most legendary partnership in the galaxy. 

_“Turn right.”_

“Hey, Snarky?” Snarky hummed wordlessly, and Zeb took it as an indicator he’d been acknowledged. “How do you know where to tell me to go?”

 _“Holo-cams. The Imperial network is quite thorough, but if you have the knowledge to do so, it can be made to readily bend to it your will.”_ The same distorted voice sounded a touch proud. _“On an as-needed basis, of course.”_

“That’s not creepy at all,” Zeb heard Imperial comm chatter and dove into a hallway pressing himself up against a bulkhead while he waited to make sure the coast was clear. As soon as it was, Snarky offered his reply.

_“Yes, well, it serves its purpose in this instance. Continue left again here.”_

Zeb grinned. “Maybe I should call you Creepy instead of Snarky,”

_“Perhaps neither?”_

“Well, since I don’t know your name, your choices are Creepy or Snarky. Take your pick,”

_“You can’t honestly expect me to choose such a ridiculous nickname.”_

“Could be worse. I could be calling you Bossy.”

_“I’d prefer just about anything over Creepy, Garazeb.”_

“Then, Snarky it is then.” He arrived at a four-way junction and frowned. “Which way do you think?”

 _“I don’t think, I know. Now, go right,”_ Snarky said. 

“See, you’re just proving my point. Snarky,”

There was a sharp intake of air, a noise of surprise, but hopefully not panic. 

_“Wait, no, stop.”_

“Stop? You said to go this way.” Zeb’s face wrinkled in confusion.

 _“Well, now I’m saying stop. Back away.”_ Snarky didn’t sound playful whatsoever _. “Turn around and go the other direction.”_

With an irritated scowl, Zeb searched for a holocam to glare into it. “Why? What is it?”

_“Just do as I say!”_

“Why?” Zeb demanded. The comm, however, was silent. “Hello?” 

Snarky--the voice, whoever they were--did not respond. And Zeb couldn't help himself: his curiosity was piqued. His abrupt desertion and warnings against going in the direction only fueled it. Why wasn’t he supposed to go down the hall?

One step became two, and Zeb treaded down the hall, wondering if he could see what exactly he was supposed to be fleeing from. 

He heard the noise before he saw it. 

An electric hum, followed by the ignition of red light at the end of the hall, and then another at the next bulkhead, each igniting one after the other. A failsafe: one that would catch him if he wasn’t quick enough, and as each ray shield ignited. Zeb heard the hum of energy grow that much closer to him until he was back at the junction. 

He threw himself to the floor as the last of the ray shields lit up.

An unforgiving floor greeted his face and Zeb snarled. His body whined in protest, but paying it no mind, Zeb clamored to his feet.

 _“I did warn you,”_ Snarky said. Rather _too_ smugly. 

“Yeah, well, thanks.”

_“You didn’t listen. I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.”_

“I can’t trust you if you don’t tell me things,” Zeb replied impatiently.

There was a long hesitation before the voice speaks again. 

_“I can tell you where your weapon is.”_

“Really?” Zeb asked, surprised. 

_“Would you trust me after I told you?”_

The Lasat laughed grimly. “Why don’t you tell me and find out?” he challenged. 

_“Your weapon is stored with some other evidence in the warden’s office, not too far from your current position. I’d recommend it best if you made your way there now.”_

Stunned, Zeb blinked at the new information. “Why?”

_“Oh, again with the questions!”_

Zeb was about to rip his newfound acquaintance a new one, not caring what ridiculous comeback the sassy idiot on the other side of the link would offer when he heard the volley of blaster fire and a strangled shout.

His green eyes peered down the hallway, and then widened in horror. In the middle of the flurry of red blaster bolts that singed where they hit the metal was the togruta, Taomen. He rushed towards the ray shield, but even if it hadn’t been there, at least a dozen more stood between Zeb and Taomen. 

Their gazes met from opposite ends of a field of ray shields, and Taomen shook his head. 

“What- You’ve got to do something.”

 _“It’s too late,”_ the voice over the comm said. _“We can’t do anything.”_

“No!” Zeb shouted, but it was too late. 

A stormtrooper hit their mark, and Taomen tumbled to the floor in an unceremonious heap. A group of four stormtroopers approached the fallen rebel, and the togruta’s hand reached up to shield himself from what they both knew was coming. No matter how much he wished otherwise, Zeb was helpless to do anything about it when their blasters clicked and each of the stormtroopers shot Taomen without a second thought. 

“Karabast.” 

The swear didn’t have its usual vehemence. He couldn’t find it in him to be angry: only pained. Whatever link he’d had to the less-than-friendly togruta had been barely there, but it had been something. More than he’d hoped for on the prison ship.

 _“He made his choice,”_ The comm-link buzzed _“I’m trying to make sure you don’t join him. Now, back away slowly, and take your next left.”_

The voice was quiet after that, only providing the occasional instruction. Although Zeb didn’t run into any more Imperials on his way to the warden’s office, it took forever; likely because he was not taking the most straightforward route. 

Once he’d freed his bo-rifle from the case it had been shoved in, (and Snarky had warned him about a tracker placed near where the weapon extended outwards,) he felt better. 

But still emptier.

“Why didn’t you let me help him?” Zeb asked, his chest tightening with regret. 

_“You couldn’t have. I helped him as much as I could. It was not my fault he chose to walk away from you,”_ the snarky voice replied smoothly. 

“So it’s my fault?” Zeb asked, feeling a furrow building between his brows.

 _“No. It was his decision, and neither of us is responsible for his death.”_ Snarky sighed then. _“Your crew will be here soon. I’d advise you to make your way to the airlock so they won’t be in any more danger than necessary when extracting you.”_

“Thank you,” Zeb said, walking down the hall from the warden’s office with a half-smile. “I know it couldn’t have been easy getting me out of here.” 

However, the other end of the comm-link was surprisingly silent. 

He examined the cylinder with a perplexed gaze. “Hello, Snarky?” Zeb asked. “You there?”

The comm-cylinder in his hand screeched and Zeb shouted as he dropped it and it sparked on the floor. _Interference; jamming. Someone is jamming the signal._

_Then--_

_“Garazeb Orrelios!”_ An all too familiar voice declared from behind him. 

The Lasat twisted around with his bo-rifle at the ready, but the hallway was empty. The sound of the voice enraged him: _Agent Kallus_ . Kallus had survived the ice moon and doomed him to such a fate in an Imperial prison after everything they’d been through together. _I’ll bash that buckethead’s skull in,_ Zeb growled as he rounded the corner of the imperial hallway.Unfortunately, he was disappointed: Agent Kallus wasn’t there at all. He stared in shock at the empty hallway. 

Then where was that voice coming from?

“ _Garazeb_.”

The Lasat jumped, turning around again to see those brown eyes looking at him through a churning shield of blue light. A hologram flickered into existence. 

“Kallus?”

Zeb’s mouth hung open and his green eyes widened. His head tilted to the side and although he could see it, he could see the blue shimmer of Kallus, Zeb could not believe his eyes. His ears flew up but couldn’t help it. 

_“You follow directions well, Captain. You are a capable warrior and soldier.”_

Zeb recoiled. His bo-rifle folded in his grasp but he could not return it to his back just yet. He was sure Kallus could see fear and mistrust cropping up in his eyes, but more than anything, he felt guilty. 

Guilty for having assumed the worst of Kallus despite everything they’d been through together. Guilty for having abandoned him on Bahryn when somehow, deep down, Zeb knew Kallus had been affected by it, had shown his true colors, truer than any Zeb had ever seen from him as an ISB Agent.

“Wait, it’s been you tellin’ me where to go and- what?”

Kallus’ eyes were soft, as if he were an abused chew toy for a kath-hound named pain.

_Did he regret savin’ me?_ Zeb couldn’t help but wonder. 

_“I am not on board, and it was difficult for me to secure your route out, although your friends will be arriving soon to rescue you, as you no doubt know.” The hologram of Kallus continued._

“Wha- Why would you do this?” Zeb asked, ears drawn back in confusion.

_“Does it really matter?” Kallus’ voice revealed nothing._

Zeb snorted in disbelief. “I’d say that it does.”

_Kallus hesitated. He seemed to be debating what to say. Then: “It’s complicated.”_

“Then uncomplicate it, Snarky,” Zeb demanded. 

Kallus rolled his eyes, glaring in such a Kallus-way that Zeb was in disbelief he hadn’t realized who had been guiding him all along _._

 _“Ever since the moon, I’ve found myself wondering quite often what it would have been like to leave everything behind.”_ Kallus looked down, embarrassed _. “To have followed you from the snow-covered canvas onto that ship and seen the galaxy through your eyes.”_

Zeb raised his eyebrows. “What’re you sayin?” he asked. 

_“I am saying you’ve broken past barriers I’ve had for years, Garazeb. Walls I’ve put up to protect myself have suddenly come crashing down, and the only thing that even makes sense anymore is what you and I found.”_

His fur bristled at the declaration; Zeb was torn, because he’d been asking Snarky, asking Kallus why, again and again, but did he really want to know? His ears lowered and Zeb sighed, bearing quite the resemblance to a kicked loth-cat.

“Which is?” he managed to ask. 

_“I think you know. I think you’re just as afraid as I am.”_

Zeb was silent. His heart bounded. His mind raced. “I saw you. On that moon, I didn’t see Agent Kallus, the Imperial. I saw you. Whoever you are.”

_“You saw Alexsandr. The man behind the Imperial.” Kallus replied quietly._

“Yeah. I guess that I did.”

He wanted to say more. However, it seemed that they stood in silence for a moment too long, because the sight of the _Ghost_ coming out of hyperspace through Kallus’ hologram. It made him panic.

“You’re really not here?” Zeb asked urgently.

_“No. I am not.” Kallus’ voice sounded oddly constricted._

“But you’re out there. Not Kallus, but Alexsandr. That’s who’s out there.”

Something happened then on Alexsandr Kallus’ face: a look of belonging. A look of being _known._ He made eye-contact with Zeb through the distance of holo-space, and he saw something vulnerable and familiar in those golden eyes. 

_“Yes. Perhaps.”_

His gloved hands came up from behind his back and folded across his chest. 

_“Well?! Are you going to get on that ship, or are you going to stand around and wait until a Star Destroyer shows up?”_

And just like that, the moment is broken.

“Depends. Will you be on it?” Zeb heard himself asking. 

He found that he actually _wanted_ to see him there. 

_“Not likely.”_

“That’s too bad,” he found himself replying honestly.

_“You will see me again, though.”_

“Really?” 

Zeb couldn’t help the strange flutter of excitement within his chest.

 _“You rebels won’t be rid of me that easily.”_ Despite the words, Kallus’ smile was gentle. _“Go, Garazeb. Your friends are waiting for you. Your family.”_

He nodded, but stayed entirely still. A smile worked its way onto his family: big goofy and awestruck, just like Zeb. His ears flew upwards and his free hand twitched as if he could reach up to the hologram and reach out for Kallus’s hair. It was imperfect, as if he’d been under stress and hadn’t slicked it back just yet. 

“I will, I will. I just wish I could bring this with me.”

 _“What, the prison transport?”_ Alexsandr Kallus, his former enemy, asked.

“Nah, it can go to the scrapheap for all I care. I just meant… whatever we found. I don’t want to leave it here.”

 _“Each other.”_ Kallus supplied. _“We found each other.”_

He turned around suddenly, and directed a surprised look back at Zeb over his shoulder.

_“Perhaps I might be aboard that Star Destroyer. In any case, it’s best we both go.”_

“Right.” Zeb lingered. “See you around?”

 _“Undoubtedly.”_ Kallus nodded. 

As the Lasat ran down the hallway to the docking port, Kallus watched for as long as he dared. But when he reached the _Ghost’s_ airlock, and Zeb turned back around to take one last look, Kallus was gone. Off to whatever command center he’d been summoned to. 

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone being lovely and supportive and kind gave me the push to finish this and give it some love to hit publish. Thank you all :)


End file.
